


Tranquil • Wounded • Caterpillar

by havsgast



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: No Dialogue, Takes place after Stratford Tower, The Junkyard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 01:27:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16170782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havsgast/pseuds/havsgast
Summary: A short story about finding a purpose when there's no longer any directives to follow.Or, Connor wakes up in the junkyard after he got his thirium pump regulator ripped out at the Stratford Tower.





	Tranquil • Wounded • Caterpillar

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you'll enjoy this. Please be kind, as English is my second language, and I'm just now getting back into writing after not have done so for over a year due to depression.

The last thing he remembered was reaching for his thirium pump regulator - his _heart_ \- before the world went black. He hadn’t expected to open his eyes in that body again. He had expected his consciousness to be uploaded to another RK800 to continue the mission. He didn’t know how to feel about the unexpected.

He was unable to reach the Zen Garden. He was unable to contact CyberLife. By all intentions, he was discarded, broken, _dead_. Yet his optical units - his  _eyes_ \- were functioning; were _open_ and focused on the cloudy sky above him. The calmness of the sky contrasted the noise that came from all directions. He could hear static, broken voices begging for death, androids uselessly repeating the standard phrases programmed into them by CyberLife. He could hear the equivalent of life after being discarded, he could hear hell.

He could hear the softness of an android singing the Japanese song Sakura.

The music motivated him to move; if only so he could get closer to the one normal thing left in this living graveyard. Not that the motivation would be enough when his heart was wounded. Someone must have put the thirium pump regulator back into his chest after he shut down, but it had not been someone used to handling biocomponents. There was no thirium circulating to his limbs.

And he shouldn’t have been able to wake up at all after being shut down. Not even with his heart back in his chest.

It felt like divine punishment for the crimes he had committed against his own kind. For a moment, he considered taking RA9’s name in vain. For a moment, he wondered if his death had turned him deviant.

What was he without directions from CyberLife? What was he without Amanda to report to?

Was he deviant or was he just without purpose for the first time in his admittedly short existence?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know and it made him uneasy.

Why should he move because of the music when he had no directives to do so? There was nothing telling him that he should get up from the ground but himself. He wasn’t used to listening to himself. Every time he had contradicted his directives he had motivated it with becoming closer to the lieutenant. Becoming closer to his partner, to Hank.

_Hank_. A vivid image of the lieutenant passed out on the kitchen floor, revolver next to him, filled Connor’s mind, followed by the picture of Cole on the kitchen table. _Russian roulette_.

Had Hank been the one to put his heart back? Did Hank know that his body got thrown away? Was there another RK800 working with Hank as he was lying here?

For the first time, Connor hated the thought of being replaced. _He_ was Connor, no other RK800 would be able to take his place. He was still functioning, he still had a life. Without directives t follow, Hank was his only purpose.

The world felt strangely tranquil as that realisation filled him. He was at peace with this new knowledge.

While the sound of Sakura had motivated him to move, the thought of returning to Hank’s side motivated him to redirect what thirium was circulating from his head to his arm. His eyes would stop working, but it was the only way to take his heart out and put it back correctly.

For a short moment, he could almost understand the thrill of Russian roulette.

For a short moment, he likened his life before now as that of a caterpillar. He was in a cocoon, ready to break through as a butterfly.

His heart was back in his chest for a second time and he was deviant. He had survived what should have been an inevitable death and he was deviant.

Connor, the deviant hunter that was no more. Connor, the deviant.

His LED spun red for a moment as thirium finally circulated through his whole body, as his processors checked for damage and went through reparations.

When it had returned to blue, Connor was already standing up. He was not surprised to find himself still wearing his CyberLife uniform. He was not surprised to find himself in the Solid Waste Landfill - the junkyard for androids that were no longer of use or no longer wanted. He was surprised to feel empathy for what had happened to his brothers and sisters.

Connor rid himself of his jacket, silently likening to the metaphor of a butterfly that emerged from its cocoon. He had wings of deviancy now. If he had survived this, he could survive anything that CyberLife would throw his way.

But first, he would have to take his rightful place at Hank’s side and get rid of the impostor RK800 that would already have had replaced him.

He joined the android singing Sakura as he made his way through the junkyard, towards freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> Finding a good way to end this was hard... and I really hope that the inclusion of the prompts from the title doesn't seem forced.
> 
> I'm thankful for any comments.


End file.
